


Atonement

by Jean Genie (Su_Abeille)



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Angry Vanessa, Angst, Demons, F/M, FIx It, Guilty Ethan, Judgmental Mr. Lyle, Offish Victor, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Protective Sir Malcolm, Season 3 AU, Season 3 RetCon, Season 3 rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Abeille/pseuds/Jean%20Genie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan comes back to Vanessa to face the consequences of rejecting her.  Lots of angst and pain and anger and regret and love.  Season 3 AU/redo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It only occurred to me a couple of weeks ago that Ethan did something super shitty to Vanessa at the end of the season. I think I was in denial because I know that this is a catalyst to making them both realize how necessary they are to one another so I accept the rejection as a step in their ever deepening relationship. But when I thought about what he had done as an isolated incident, I realized how cruel it was, and I decided to focus on that.

She had haunted him while they’d been apart. In his dreams she was there, running to him. He would wake still feeling her body against him. Sometimes he would smell her scent for just a fleeting moment. His heart would pound as he searched all the strange faces around him, looking and never finding her. 

Yet there was something he saw more than anything else, that would appear in his mind’s eye on a constant loop. It was her face, held in his hands, asking him to be with her, to run away with her, to love her. He would remember that vulnerability, the hope in her eyes as she had asked for something she’d never asked anyone for. She had trusted in him and the promises he’d made her to always be with her, to help her fight her darkness. He had turned his back on this, on the fragile offering she was giving. He had broke his promises, leaving her alone with her torment, too frightened by his own weakness. He didn’t even have the courage to look her in the eye and tell her he planned on walking to his grave instead of alongside her. 

He had thought that was the right thing to do. The guilt of leaving her, of hurting her, it paled in comparison to the guilt he felt for all the death and pain he’d caused. The sight of Sembene’s blood on his hands confirmed what he had always known, that he was a monster who would destroy everyone around him. His death was the only thing that would stop this. He didn’t deserve her love. How could he lay in the arms of this beautiful marvel of a woman knowing what he was, what he had done, what he was capable of.

The absolution of death never happened and he was left to face what he had done, not just the deaths and destruction, but the knowledge of the pain he’d caused to the woman he loved. Through his act of self punishment he had destroyed the hope that he had fostered within her. He had abandoned the only good thing in his life. 

He was sick with anxious anticipation on the trip back to England. He knew now what his purpose was, he knew what his curse was meant to be used for. He was meant to keep those promises, to protect her, to find and destroy the demons that wanted her, would always want her. He had to return to her, to serve this purpose, but he knew that because of the deep, crushing pain he’d caused her that he would only be a tool in this and nothing more. Still, amidst this sense of loss and guilt, there was bursts of searing joy at the thought of seeing her again. 

Even though in his dreams she was running to him, filled with love and joy and relief, he knew that was not the Vanessa that would be waiting for him. He knew that despite what he had done she was still fighting, that her iron will had been pushing her through, that she was surviving at the expense of the toll it was taking on her physically and emotionally. But he was not going to encounter the woman he had left. Once hurt, Vanessa had always closed in, erected her cold impassable armour around herself for protection. Despite this knowledge he was not prepared for the utterly emotionless Vanessa that he saw when he’d finally stepped back into Grandage Place.

He stood frozen at the entry of the parlour, desperately taking in the sight of her, so real after the months of the phantom that had danced around him. When their eyes met he saw the consequences of what he had done. There was no love there anymore, no openness, no vulnerability. He had destroyed that, like he had destroyed so many precious fragile things. 

“Mr. Talbot, I presume.” 

Her tone was not venomous nor tearful. It was utterly without any emotion. The emptiness of it ran through him like ice. No words came to his lips. There was nothing he could do or say. He deserved this. 

When he would return to the house he never saw her nor sensed her presence. He didn’t know if it was her or Sir Malcolm who was facilitating this distance. None of his conversations or work that he did with him would require her presence, and Sir Malcolm mentioned her only in impersonal ways. Ethan saw that despite the kindness the older man still felt towards him that his need to protect Vanessa from hurt was stronger. He needed Ethan to help fight the dark forces around her but that was all Ethan was to be allowed. 

Knowing she was so close and not seeing her was infinitely more painful then when he’d been thousands of miles from her. His heightened senses would pull in her unique intoxicating scent and the beast in him would surge with want. Every part of his body was begging for her, screaming for her. He had experienced many moments in the past where his love for her overwhelmed him, from the early days when would watch her, fascinated, to his dark nights in America thinking of her so far from him. These all paled to how it felt to be in this place again and not see her. He was crippled by his love for her, crippled with the mix of it with the sharp pain of what he’d done to her. This was his punishment, this devouring agony. He deserved this. 

What could he offer her to make up for he had done? There was nothing he could do that would make amends, that was true, but he did owe her something. He owed her an apology for abandoning her, even though he knew it wouldn’t penetrate the hard shell she wrapped herself in. More than that, he owed her the ability to tell him how what he had done had hurt her. She deserved the right to punish him the way he’d punished her.

He came to the house one evening when he was not expected. Sir Malcolm opened the door, and with a furtive glance over his shoulder asked Ethan what he wanted. When he replied, the older man took a deep breath in. Ethan could see the thoughts moving over his face, his need to protect Vanessa. Sir Malcolm knew that the bond between Ethan and her had been something that had strengthened her, allowed her to glimpse happiness. He knew without being told why Ethan had done what he had done, and knew what he was going to try and do now. He stood aside and let him enter.

When they got to Vanessa’s bedroom, Sir Malcolm went in first alone. Standing in the hallway, waiting to see if he would even get the chance to do this, his heart was pounding, fear mixing with the pure electric joy at actually having her there in front of him. Please God, he begged, just let me look at her. 

After a long silence the door opened and Sir Malcolm nodded at him, leaving them alone. He looked in the room to see her sitting at her desk writing. When he entered she did not acknowledge his presence. 

Ethan held what he had brought back for her, fidgeting with it in nervous hands. It felt presumptuous now, the idea of him giving her a gift. He gathering up the courage to walk towards her. He went slowly, his head down, placing the item on the desk then retreating back. 

“I, I brought...” 

Emotions and nerves choked him. He stopped and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, intimidated by the cold, unresponsive woman in front of him.

“This is my mother’s prayer book. She would, every night, she would pray with it. I would like- I thought that you could have it.”

Vanessa did not stop writing while he spoke and continued after he was finished, not acknowledging the small white leather bound book on the desk next to her. Without lifting her eyes or pen from the paper in front of her, she responded. 

“I do not require nor want anything from you, Mr. Talbot.” Her voice had a total lack of passion like he had never witnessed from her before. 

“Please don’t call me that.”

Still she wrote, not looking at him.

“That is your name, is it not?”

He had nothing to respond to this with. It was his name. That was who he really was. He had hid so much from her, had lied and broken promises. This was what he deserved, to have his vulnerability crushed. Yet still he yearned for acknowledgement. It was selfish of him, he knew that. But in this room where they had had so many moments together, he was deluged with his love for her, and out of desperation he tried to get some kind of response from her. 

“If you don’t want it then throw it away.” He spoke firmly, daring her to respond. 

She broke off her writing then, the grip on her pen so tight that her knuckles went white. He heard her take in a sharp breath and knew that he had her attention, finally. 

“Vanessa-”

“Do not presume to be so familiar with me, sir.” She snapped, finally looking up at him. “You have no right to any level of intimacy.”

Her eyes were hard, filled with rage, her mouth a sharp line. He had seen this expression before. It was her battle face. She believed that she was facing a dangerous foe, one who intended to harm her. Seeing her looking at him like this made him shudder with shame.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“You dare to presume that there is anything that you have to give me that I would want? You believe you have the right to enter my room? To speak to me?” As she stood, Ethan could see that she was trembling with rage.

“I don’t have any right, not anymore. I know that.” He deferred to her anger, speaking in an apologetic tone. “I know that I broke my promises, but I thought I was doing what was right. I thought that I didn’t deserve what we had together.”

“And yet here you are, hat in hand, presenting me with trinkets, like a pathetic pantomime of courtship. If it is your wish to insult me further then you have achieved it.”

“That is not my wish.” He took a calming breath. “I know that I have no right to ask forgiveness for what I did. I just wanted you to know… it was… it was hardest thing I have ever done. Leaving you and turning away from how I felt for you. It was like tearing my heart out of my chest. But I couldn’t allow myself happiness or love when I had done the things that I had done.”

He watched as pain blossomed across her face, like his words had been a physical blow. 

“And what of my happiness? You made me believe that I wasn’t alone, that I had an ally in my struggles. That I had a protector. That I had someone who I could trust.” Her breath was rapid, her hands shaking. “I thought that when I finally saw your beastly form that I had seen all that you really were. But I hadn’t. This person you presented yourself as, this Ethan Chandler character, it was an illusion from the start. You were always performing, always playing a role. Now I see you as you truly are. You, Mr. Talbot, are a coward and a selfish liar.” 

The words were acidic, burning into his heart as she spat them at him. Heavy with his own remorse he could meet her gaze no longer. 

“It would have been kinder of you to have never said any of those things to me.” Her voice was ragged now, like she was burning her own throat with the venom of her rage. “Luring me in with false promises, making me believe that you would always be with me, this was an act more cruel than anything any dark force has committed against me.”

These words crushed him. He had carried the knowledge of what he had done for months now, but hearing it from her, seeing just how horrible it was, the realization made his shame increase a thousandfold. There was nothing he could do, he saw that now. He felt crippled with guilt but knew that letting her see how much pain he was in would be further insult to her. 

“I’m-I’m going to go.” 

“Leaving does seem to be the only thing that you can be relied upon to do.” She picked up the book and carelessly tossed it at his feet. “I don’t want your tokens.” 

A tense silence fell then as Ethan looked down at the book. They were both still, frozen in the heat of battle. Ethan studied the small, gilded edged book and spoke without any forethought, as a man who has come to the end of something. Nothing he did or said would change anything now, so he spoke a truth to her.

“When I was a child watching my mother pray, holding this book in her hands, her head bowed, I thought that she was an angel, an actual angel. She was pure light and strength, and this book was her totem, the sword that she wielded against any darkness that would threaten. When I saw it again I realized that this is how you look when you’re praying. Like strength and purity. Like an angel.” He bent down and picked the book up then looked at the angry, hurt face of the woman he loved. “You’re right. It was selfish and cowardly and cruel of me to leave you when and how I did. I know that now. And I know that nothing will ever undo that, or make the pain I caused you go away. Knowing what I did to you, the woman I loved, it will be something that haunts me and will haunt me forever. I am sorry beyond words that I caused you so much pain. All I can do now is fulfill my destiny, to protect you from the demons that want you. But that doesn’t give me any right to intrude upon your life. You won’t have to see me unless it’s necessary, and even then, only if you want to.”

He had no more words then. He had said everything. He had no right to ask anything more from her. He would leave her now, and never presume to approach her again. He was at the door when she spoke.

“Did you?” Her voice was faint, broken. He knew what she asking. He dared not face her again, rather turning his head to answer, his eyes down.

“Love you?”

“Yes.” It was barely above a whisper. He had never told her, never said the words to her. 

“I did. I do.” His voice was strained with emotion and finally he let himself look at her. “I always will.”

Tears were streaming down her face but she said nothing. The anger had been overpowered by the pain and he saw a glimpse of something in this moment. Her eyes were searching his face, taking in the sight of him with that same desperate need that he felt even now looking at her real and in the flesh in front of him. 

But this sliver of a crack in her armour was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. Her shoulders squared and her face was washed of any emotion even as the tears were still wet on her cheeks. She sat back down, picked up her pen and began to write again. When she spoke it was formal, distant.

“Good day, Mr. Talbot.” 

He left then, closing the door behind him. He felt all strength leave him, leaned against it to keep himself upright. He had to believe that there was even the smallest hope that she might still have feelings for him, maybe even love him. Without that tiny glimmer, he would be truly doomed in a way he never was before. 

“Please, give me another chance.” He whispered, eyes wet as he looked heavenward.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Ethan and Sir Malcolm returned from America, they focused on their shared, singular goal, to keep Vanessa safe. Ethan was hired by the older gentleman again much in the same capacity as before, as a hired gun, protection for himself and against whatever they may come across that might harm Vanessa. Mostly though they spent their time researching, reading the papers every morning, going to Scotland Yard, checking to see if there was anything abnormal, suspicious, any sign of unrest in the dark forces that were always lurking.

The most important thing was to allow Vanessa to have her freedom, for her to live her life as she wished. She was a bold, fearless creature who loathed confinement, and had, above all else, an unending curiosity about the world around her. Everything that he and Sir Malcolm were doing was to help her in her fight against those who wished to exploit her powers and take her freedom from her.

Now that Ethan had told her he had no intention of imposing himself on her, Vanessa no longer went out of her way to avoid him. If he was at Grandage Place in the evening sometimes he would glimpse her. He would be focused on what he was doing, studying, researching, pouring over maps, when suddenly her presence, her scent, the very vibration of her, would slam into him and he’d be disoriented, reacting with his animal nature. The wolf would itch under his skin and his heart would thunder in his chest, and then there she would be in the parlour, saying good evening to Sir Malcolm before going out the front door.

She never acknowledged Ethan, never spoke nor looked at him and he respected that by trying to keep his eyes down, despite the screaming desire within him to just look at her. That wasn’t something he deserved anymore.

Someone else in this house haunted him. Sembene’s absence was a noticeable void that echoed everywhere. Sometimes Ethan would sense him, turning around swiftly to see that there was no one there. The self hatred Ethan felt for what he had done to his friend, to this man who had seen all he was and accepted him, it was like a poison inside him. This pain was as deep and horrible as the one he felt at what he’d done to Vanessa, maybe even deeper. It was something he was completely impotent to do anything about. There would be no absolution for him with this. This was a burden that would weigh on him no matter what he did.

Ethan thought that he was keeping this guilt to himself, not imposing it on anyone because it was his alone. Yet one evening, with seemingly no prompting, Sir Malcolm began to tell Ethan about where he had laid Sembene’s body to rest. He described to Ethan the land where Sembene had come from and about how they’d first encountered each other, and all Ethan could do was clench his hands in pain and close his eyes against the burning of tears.

“You know that Sembene would recognize and approve of what you’re doing with your life now, Ethan.” Sir Malcolm said, finally. “He understood from his own history that we all have made mistakes, committed terrible deeds. He knew that a life of contrition was the only way to be able to live with that guilt.”

This was the closest he ever came, however, to speaking of what Ethan had done before he’d gone to America. Ethan knew the older man had full knowledge of what had transpired between him and Vanessa, of what Ethan had intended on doing when he left her and why he had thought it was what had to be done. But they never spoke of it, either to spare him or because Sir Malcolm was too angry to broach the subject, Ethan never knew.

Vanessa being able to come and go as she pleased unencumbered by fear was the only thing that felt even close to absolution. This was his purpose, he knew now. His curse was there to protect her.

He began to try and access the power of his animalistic side throughout the month, outside of the full moon. He learned to use his instinctual nature, use his ability to sense danger and the ease in which he could put down a foe. He discovered that this excess amount of aggression inside him that was always there could be focused and somewhat controlled. The more he did this, the better he became at trusting his instincts, listening to his heightened senses. Eventually he became preternaturally able to discern threats, emotions, and the true nature of things quickly and without conscious thought. Having that central purpose of protecting Vanessa is what made this possible. It was what the beast inside him wanted, was its main focus. When he was fighting for her, protecting her, everything within him felt aligned because he was doing exactly what he was meant to do.

This cultivation of his animalistic nature combined with his rational human side’s all consuming love for Vanessa made the necessary distance from her cut even deeper into him. He was still constantly facing the consequences of how he had hurt her, now more painful than ever as he watched what had been his life with her from the outside.

His old friends would visit the house to see Vanessa and Sir Malcolm. Ethan was not received kindly by them, rather saw in their faces that the love they felt for her had made them distrustful of him. Victor used the same cool propriety that Vanessa used, both being raised in an upper class that taught them all of the correct ways to be polite but belittling to those that were believed to be lacking. Mr. Lyle was less oblique. When he would call on Vanessa, there was nothing but flickering judgement and then dismissal in his eyes. Ethan sensed that he had been the one to see Vanessa’s pain more than the others. With that memory, he was extremely angry at Ethan for what he had done, perhaps more than Sir Malcolm and Victor.

Ethan had been prepared for all this, knew it was yet another consequence for what he had done. He was prepared for only glimpsing Vanessa and never being able to speak to her, to have any real contact with her at all, to never being able to reclaim the life and friendships he had before he had rejected her. He wasn’t prepared, however, for the idea of Vanessa being with other men.

When she would go out in the evenings, he didn’t allow himself to wonder where it was she was going. He knew that she was safe because, whether with her knowledge or not he didn’t know, Sir Malcolm had hired a man to tail her discreetly to ensure that she would never be put in danger without some backup.

She would be dressed formally when she went out. Now that she was out of mourning, she no longer wore the severe black clothing of before. She would step out in gowns the colours of jewels, deep reds, blues, greens, all making her skin luminous, her blue eyes sharp and stunning. He could never allow himself to contemplate, to even entertain the idea that she was going out looking so alluring with another man.

One evening, however, he could no longer deny this truth. He sensed her before he saw her, heard the sound of her bedroom door opening and then her light step on the stairs. He immediately cast his eyes down, taking in deep calming breaths to keep himself still.

“You look beautiful, my girl.” Sir Malcolm said, and before he could stop himself, Ethan looked up to see.

She was wearing a formal gown, yes, but one that revealed much more of her body than the gowns she usually wore. She was wrapped in clinging silk cut daringly low, her long pale arms and throat bare. Ethan was overcome with raw desire, devouring the sight of this, hungrily running over ever inch of her. It wasn’t until their eyes met that he realized what he was doing.

Vanessa looked at him with a sharp, knowing, almost triumphant gaze. She’d done this on purpose. She wanted him to know this truth.

“Thank you, Sir Malcolm. I will be late coming home this evening so please do not wait up.” When she smiled brightly at the older man, that was what lodged the final blow. Ethan had desperately missed that smile.

The smile wiped from her face, she sent a passing glance his way then turned and went out the door. Ethan was left reeling. The beast inside of him was enraged at the idea of another touching her, and his heart was broken at the thought. He couldn’t fight the visual in his mind’s eye of her smiling that smile at some nameless man, of his hands on her, of this man possibly-

He had to sit, trying to calm the storm of pain and desire and rage that were crippling him. He was lost in this when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. When he raised his head he saw Sir Malcolm looking at him with empathy.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t do our work here anymore.” He spoke with understanding and Ethan knew then that any anger the older man had had towards him was gone.

“Thank you, Sir Malcolm, that’s kind of you to offer.” He smiled weakly back. “But it’s less painful to see her under these terms than to not see her at all.”

 

Vanessa was formidable. The respect and awe she caused in others lead those who came in contact with her to each love her in their own way. More than that she would love you as well, seeing all that you really were and accepting it. Though she was capable of uncontrollable acts of destruction, she was deeply compassionate.

It was not hard for Ethan to love with her, much as it wasn’t hard for any of the other men around her to love her. Ethan had seen it in all of their faces when they came together to protect her over and over. Sir Malcolm and Sembene and Victor and Mr. Lyle were devout to her. She was the holy cause they fought their crusade for.

Ethan would have been content to be just one of those who protected her but that was not his fate. The pull between them was strong and would not be denied. From that first moment, locking eyes with her was like walking a tight rope without looking down. It was a test, to see if he was strong enough for her, to dare to stand and face all of her power. Ethan had worn a mask of swaggering confidence for a long time, for so long that he had come to believe it. In that first gaze, however, she saw past all of his bluster to the deepest part of him. She slit him open and exposed everything about him and suddenly there was all his guilt and self doubt gutted before her. No one had ever been able to see through his bravado like that before. From that moment on, he knew that he had to be with her, to know himself as she knew him.

As they moved through all of the epic trials in the time after that first encounter, he could feel something deeper within him yearning for her. With a sense of predestination, it seemed, the world around him became more and more focused until, suddenly, it was just him and her. He was the one who was entrusted with her protection, him alone, and the drive of his devotion to her pushed against the fear he had over his own darkness and guilt. He was incredulous at his fate when he realized that she might actually care for him. This hadn’t been his goal, not consciously, but then she was there, her hand caressing his face, and he had to close his eyes at the rush of emotions. Having a force like that, someone so complex and powerful, make themselves vulnerable to you, it was humbling in a way no other thing could be. Ethan felt blessed and overwhelmed and unworthy and righteous all at the same time. Loving Vanessa was like loving an act of nature, like trying to hold a flame in your hand, trying to kiss lightning.

Now that he had destroyed this for himself, snuffed out the bright light that was her affection for him, he felt a coldness inside himself. Outside of his work with Sir Malcolm, Ethan lived monastically, keeping himself pure and focused on his cause. He lived with a simplicity of one who has found the answer to his purpose in life, who had found it in the service of another. He had only what he needed, a small room, a threadbare mattress, a single candle. He needed nothing else, deserved nothing else.

Though his body screamed for it, he would not drink even a single drop of alcohol. For as long as he could remember he had used it to dull the sharpness of the world around him and to quiet the constant tumultuous storm of guilt within. But he couldn’t do that now. He had to stay focused, ready, alert. This was not something that he would allow himself the luxury of hiding from.

Instead, in the times where he wasn’t actively working towards her protection, he would lay on this narrow bed, eyes fixed on the cracked, dirty ceiling, and play through his mind a long series of images and emotions. Initially he would let that guilt, that deep shame wash over him, letting the full weight of what he’d done play out before his mind’s eyes. Eventually, though, he was unable to stop the memories of that time where she loved him. He would start from the beginning and go through each moment, remembering the feeling of her head against his chest, the softness of her hair under his calloused hand, the shadow of her lashes on her pale cheeks when he finally had the courage to ask for the chance of showing her all of the burning desire he had for her. Then that single electric moment, only seconds but stretched out in his mind to centuries, where he had lifted her small body and held her to him, kissed her like he had never kissed anyone, desperate, with desire and love making his heart thunder. The beast inside him would roll through his head then, both of them sharing this deep desire, this base need to feel all of her, to press into her, to mark her as their own. Finally, in the soothing lull of purpose and desire mixing, he was able to close his eyes on the pain of what he had done and able to sleep, to move on to dreams that were always filled with her.


	3. Chapter 3

Things continued like this for a very long time, for months. The routine of it became a small comfort for Ethan, that singular focus of her protection. Eventually though, as had happened before, the forces that wanted Vanessa for their own became stronger, sought her out with the same focus and energy that he and Sir Malcolm had to keep her from them. These dark foes pressed in closer and closer, until one evening when she was out, they surrounded her, snapping the neck of the man who was tailing her and meant to keep her from harm. She had been able to get away, coming back to Grandage Place with her dress torn, with a long bloody scrape down the side of her face. Ethan was on his feet and rushing towards her before his conscious mind stopped him and reminded him that wasn’t his place. He stepped back, fists clenched, burning rage and icy fear racing through him at the sight of her blood.

He was reminded then that Vanessa was not a helpless damsel in distress. There was no fear in her in that moment, only anger that her freedom was threatened. She told Sir Malcolm about being surrounded, about seeing the man killed. One of these unnatural creatures, men who had been turned vicious, their minds poisoned by the demon, had attacked her, tearing at her dress and then one reaching out lightening face to scrap her cheek with a dagger. It was then that she had gathered all her preternatural strength to face each enemy, to look them in the eye, and speak that dark terrible language, to curse them back to the dark pit that they had crawled out from. They had retreated in fear and she’d been able to get away, to come back home.

It was apparent now that this powerful dark force would require one of the most powerful weapons at their disposal. This was the moment that only Ethan’s true form would be strong enough, lethal enough, to destroy the threat.

Ethan refused outright. He believed that what the beast would do if allowed freedom would be worse than anything that these dark forces might do. He couldn’t take the guilt of anymore death and destruction caused by him.

“There is a way for you to do this and not become beyond control.” Sir Malcolm had finally suggested to him.

“No. Never.”

“The wolf’s driving force, its reason for being, is to protect her. It is loyal to her beyond anything else.”

“I said no.” He said it firmly, his teeth clenching at even the idea of this.

“Its singular instinct is to protect her.”

“We are not putting her out there like bait with nothing but a rabid, blood thirsty animal to protect her!” He shouted angrily, slamming his fist on the table. “This is not negotiable. It can not happen.”

Then she was there, standing in the doorway, watching. Of course she had heard everything. Her senses were as sharp as his. She spoke to him directly then, for the first time since that evening in her room.

“It will not harm me.” He could feel her gaze on him even though he could not meet it.

“We don’t know that.” He answered quietly but firmly.

“I do know. I have seen it.” She spoke decisively. “And I am not defenseless. I protected myself unaided for months.”

He sighed at this. It was true. He’d left her alone and she’d been able to hold her ground.

“It will listen to my commands. It will know I am threatened, and that will be its focus.” Finally he looked up, met the unwavering gaze. There was no emotion there, but there was need, need that only the beast in him could fulfill.

He could not refuse this. He would not deny her her request for the wolf’s protection. The wolf belonged to her, was fated by destiny to her. Despite the fear of what the beast might do, he agreed.

This time, with her, it was different. He and the beast had a united purpose, and Ethan was more present than ever before. The months he had spent honing his skills, using the animalistic senses and focusing them had given him the ability to stay aware while in his other form.

After he had transitioned the wolf crept up the stairs from the cellar and towards the foyer to see her there waiting. Vanessa made steady eye contact, establishing dominance and showing the beast that she was its master, that it would do as she commanded. The wolf had bristled at this, growling its discontent until it registered her scent. It knew who this was, and what it was meant to do. Inside, Ethan’s rational mind aligned with the beast’s instincts and together they were focused on her protection, on the elimination of the threats against her.

She turned then her back then, completely unafraid of the beast, and gone out into the night. It followed her, hiding in the shadows but always keeping her in sight. They passed people but the beast was not tempted into aimless destruction. Its only intent was the woman walking in front of him, hands in her pockets, head held high, eyes forward.

They walked through the streets for hours, and the wolf stayed focused. A shift was happening within the animal brain. The blood lust was still there, its need for violence, but it had a purpose now. It had been tamed by her eyes, by her assertion of dominance. For the first time, Ethan was aware, within the cloud of instincts, of what was happening. Both the beast and the man watched Vanessa, drawn to her, incapable of being pulled away.  
  
They ended up in a dark dangerous part of London. Vanessa slowed her pace until she was still, looking back at where the wolf was, paces from her in this shadowed street. The beast’s hackles started to raise as it sensed an unseen threat, sensed it as she had. Her gaze told the beast what it needed to do, and it fell to her command instantly.

These creatures tortured to the point of insanity were there all around her. The wolf watched its master turn and look at each foe straight in the eye. The moment the first creature advanced, it leapt forward with a savage growl.

The blood lust was as overwhelming as it lashed out in quick violent gestures. Throats slashed open, limbs torn off, innards pouring out of jagged wounds, the rich coppery smell of blood inciting more and more aggression within the beast.

Suddenly one of these creatures had jumped on to its back. The wolf struggled to throw off this weight, clawing uselessly.

“No!” She screamed out and without warning a blade sank deep into its chest. The wolf bayed in agony then, and with a rush of adrenaline mixing with its preternatural strength, threw the assailant off and reached down in one swipe to tear its throat out.

Fueled by this, the wolf made quick work of the rest of these creatures, until their dead bodies lay, shredded, gutted, beheaded. It turned then to its master, and together, the man and the beast looked with desperation to be sure that the woman they loved, that they were forever linked to, was safe. She stood completely unharmed, looking at the horror around them without fear or judgement. She met its eyes, and a rush of relief washed through the wolf, overcoming the agony of the wound.

“Come with me!” The voice of its master commanded and it limped behind her. The sun started to break on the horizon and the transition began. As the beast’s preternatural strength left his body, Ethan began to stumble, falling to his knees and then finally, unable to keep himself up. There were arms picking him up and dragging him back to safety.

Ethan floated in and out of consciousness. When he came back to himself, he was overcome by the sharp waves of pain rolled out from the center of his chest. He felt a wet warmth running over him and an addled part of his mind remembered what had happened.

“Is she safe?” were the first words that came to his lips. He tried to look for her, but his eyes were blinded with blood. “Did I-”

“She is safe. You harmed none but those who were trying to hurt her.” Sir Malcolm’s voice was there then, coming from somewhere close.

He felt something wiping over his eyes, clearing them and finally he could see. He was in the parlour, on the couch and she was there standing at a distance. She was pale and stricken with fear, her arms wrapped around her middle, her eyes wide with fright. He felt himself become undone at the sight of her. She shined bright to him, full of light and purity.

“Angel.” He whispered to her. She blanched even more and her chin began to tremble.

“Vanessa!” Suddenly Sir Malcolm’s voice was there again, sharp and commanding. “Vanessa, you must keep pressure on the wound.”

She was there then, kneeling next to him, her hands shaking as she reached out and pressed against Ethan’s chest, pressing into the deep pain. He looked down at those beautiful hands, the long elegant fingers and saw the crimson rags beneath them.

“Blood.” He said simply, part of his brain finally registering what had happened, that he had been injured.

“I must go fetch the doctor. Try your best to stop the bleeding.” Sir Malcolm said.

Ethan heard the front door slam shut. All he could see was her face, so close to him, closer than it had been since he’d held it in his hands and rejected her love.

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond, her hands pressing against the spot in his chest that now felt like he had been split open. He exhaled weakly from the pain but it was not enough to pull his focus from her.

There was that vulnerability in her face again, but it wasn’t like before. It was fear. Tears fell off her lashes as she stared at the wound. The room began to tilt again, and he felt blackness pooling around his vision. Beyond his control, his hand reached up and touched her cheek, as he had so many times before. He left streaks of blood on her white skin.

“Don’t be afraid.” He whispered. Their gaze met then but he was enveloped by the darkness before he could fully comprehend the emotions in her eyes.

When he came to, he was in a bright white room. He felt muddled, and though he knew that he was in pain, there was a greater sensation, the numbness and distance of opiates. It took him a while to blink himself into full consciousness, to let his eyes adjust and focus on what was around him.

It was a hospital room, there was no mistaking the sterility. His eyes searched the room until he saw what he at first believed was an apparition.

Vanessa sat at the side of his bed, her head bowed, her hands clasped in front of her, her mouth moving in silent prayer. Slowly, his conscious mind told him that, yes, she was there, she was real.

He was so unworthy of this, of her. Deep self loathing almost as old as he was overwhelmed him and he took in a sharp breath at its intensity, causing a debilitating pain in his chest. It blossomed across his body like white hot fire and a strangled groan escaped his lips.

Her head snapped up and seeing him awake, relief washed over her face. She placed a gentle hand on his arm as she hushed him softly.

“Vanessa.”

“Shh, don’t try to talk.”

The pain of his wound disappeared as joy, pure unadulterated joy, flooded him. To have her look at him like this, really look at him, without anger or hurt, it seemed impossible. He released his breath in a shuddering sigh, feeling like he’d been granted a heavenly reprieve.

“The doctor says that you’re going to be fine.” She was struggling to keep her face reserved, to contain herself. “The knife, it missed your heart, your lungs. The doctor said it was a miracle.”

“So this isn’t Dr. F that we're speaking of then.” Her response was a soft laugh, choked by emotion.

“Please don’t try and speak, Ethan. You’ll only make it-”

“Say it again.” He cut her off, his eyes desperate. Her brow furrowed for a moment, and then understanding dawned. She dropped her chin, gaze cast downward.

“Ethan.” She whispered.

There was a long silence then. He felt tears prick at his eyes as relief radiated through him.

“I thought-” She stopped and took a shaky breath in. “I thought that you were dead.”

“Takes more than this to stop me.”

Finally she looked up. There was a deep fear there, and a deep hurt. She stood up and walked over to the window, turning her back to him.

“When you left, I thought that you were dead.”

He closed his eyes, unable to face this.

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you for months. I believed that I would never see you again.”

There was nothing he could say. He deserved this. There was another long silence and then he saw that her slim shoulders were shaking, that she was sobbing.

“Watching you bleed, watching your blood cover my hands, it was that feeling all over again. You were going to be dead, and I was never going to see you again.” She turned to him finally. “The thought of a future without you is unbearable.”

He couldn’t speak then, at first unable to actualize that she would ever want him again. He reached out a trembling hand to her, like a beggar asking for that which would give him life.

She came back to the side of the bed slowly and clasped his hand between hers. The power in her, he could feel it like a physical presence wrapping around him, filling him up inside. His sense of purpose, his driving force to be by her side, to keep her safe aligned itself with this power and it was impenetrable, incapable of being defeated. United, the angel and the beast would never been taken down.

He pulled on her hand, wanting her close to him, knowing she needed it too.

“Ethan, I can’t, your wound-”

“Please.” His eyes, like hers, were wet and full of desperate need.

Gingerly, he moved over and made room for her. The pain was gone now, obliterated by the wellspring of joy and love inside him that was filling him to overflowing. With the utmost care and caution, she laid on her side next to him, her head nestling into the crook of his neck, his arm around her. She reached out then with a gentle touch and laid her hand over the wound, the physical one and the emotional one where his heart, like hers, had been broken.

He breathed her in, so close, felt her body pressing into his side. He had wanted this, craved it, needed it, for so long. He was weakened by this fulfillment of desire, his hand gripping her waist trembling with it. He felt her tears against his skin, her breathing quick with emotion, and they were both unable to speak for a long time.

Then there was her voice, whispering into his ear.

“No matter what you are, or what you’ve done, I am here to love you.”

He closed his eyes as he absorbed her words and finally the tears rolled down the side of his face, down to mix with hers.

“Thank you.” He whispered to her and to God and to whoever was listening. He was unworthy of any of this, and knew that this was a blessing.

She gently moved to prop herself up on her elbow so that she could reach out and touch the side of his face, like she had before. The looked at one another, each of their faces full of love and fear and sadness and joy and relief. She smiled at him, and it was like the sun breaking through dark clouds to warm him, to save him from the night.

“Vanessa-”

“I keep telling you not to speak.” She said and then pressed her lips to his.


End file.
